Half Truths and Truer Lies
by sammywinters
Summary: AU in which Special Agent Mike Warren comes to Graceland along with his new wife. How does the house deal with a permanent civilian?
1. Chapter 1

His alarm went off at 6:00 as it always did. He didn't roll over and beg for 5 more minutes of sleep like I would. He sat up like a shot and stretched before heading to the bathroom. I, on the other hand, rolled over to take his side of the bed. I heard him shuffling around in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. But I couldn't go back to sleep—DJ was already doing his jumping-jacks upstairs. It's never quiet for long in Graceland.

I reluctantly rolled out of bed and followed him to the kitchen. Mike was finishing off a glass of orange juice while working a hand grip. He was looking out the window to the ocean, his back to me. I came up behind him and put my hands on his waist. He tensed and I saw his right hand instinctively jerk toward his waist, where a gun would normally be strapped.

"Just me," I said quietly, kissing his shoulder. He relaxed and leaned back against me.

"What are you doing up?"

"DJ takes his jumping-jacks very seriously," I replied with a grimace. He laughed and turned to face me.

"Can I talk you into going on a run with me?" he asked, cradling my face between his hands. The look I gave him was answer enough. He laughed and gave me a quick kiss before heading to the door. "I love you!" he called back over his shoulder as he left. I smiled to myself and headed back to our room. DJ was done with his jumping-jacks, but I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. I threw open the window to breathe in the fresh, salty ocean air, and let myself soak in the shower for about half an hour. I made the bed—not quite as neatly as Mike would have, but still—then headed back out to the kitchen to appease my grumbling stomach.

The second I opened the fridge I heard a voice behind me—"Don't you dare touch my orange juice!" DJ came into the kitchen and reached around me for his orange juice, but I got it first.

"That's not very nice, DJ!" I said, dancing out of his reach.

"You don't separate an agent from his orange juice, Samantha—didn't anyone tell you that?" He chased me around the island of the kitchen before snatching the juice out of my hand. "Goddamn jumped up little housewife," he grumbled as I laughed.

"Aw, DJ, don't be like that! Graceland needed a civilian's touch," I joked as I grabbed the Cheerio's—Cheerio's that Mike and I bought ourselves, Cheerio's that didn't have a "DJ" scrawled on the box. Johnny came in as I was pouring myself a bowl.

"Sammy Sam-Sam Sammy!" he sang, giving me a peck on the cheek. "Where is the respectable married Mike?" he asked, grabbing a handful of my cereal.

"Out the door at 6:00 of course—he went on a run." Johnny laughed and headed toward the beach.

"I got something to pick up at the farmer's market—anyone need anything?" he asked, one foot already out the door. But before anyone could answer, the door slammed and he was gone.

"I'd like some things, Johnny, thanks for asking, see you later," joked a voice from the entrance to the kitchen. Briggs came in and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge. "I'm making pancakes, who wants?" he asked.

"ME!" yelled DJ, thrusting his hand into the air.

"I'll take a couple," I said.

"After a bowl of Cheerio's, Samantha? You're going to lose your hooker's figure," Briggs laughed.

"Shut up, Briggs, I'm not a hooker!" I yelled over DJ's laughter.

"Ugh, DJ, your laugh is so loud!" Charlie came in from the beach, barefoot and her hair a mess.

"Morning, Charlie," I said, smiling. Of the ladies in Graceland, Charlie was the one with whom I was friendliest. "Wild night?"

"God, it was horrible. Briggs, give me a few pancakes, will you?" She collapsed into the seat next to me. "I saw your obscenely cheerful husband this morning. Was he out at the crack of dawn?"

"6:00, actually. I don't know how he does it," I answered, finishing off my Cheerio's.

"I don't know how he's so cheerful all the time—for God's sake, he's married to a hooker," she said, trying to hide her smile.

"Goddamn it, I'm not a hooker!" I yelled.

"Who's calling you a hooker?" said a voice from the doorway. Mike came in, sweaty but with the exhilarated look he always had after running on the beach.

"They all are, because of the stupid stunt you pulled when you were undercover! Now I'm the sexy Russian hooker Katarina—none of which is true!" I said, glaring at Briggs.

"Well, the sexy part is," Mike said, kissing my cheek before grabbing a glass. DJ wolf-whistled and Charlie laughed. Briggs put a few pancakes on my plate and DJ's, but he ignored the plate in Mike's hand.

"Are you still punishing me?" Mike asked indignantly, reaching for one of my pancakes.

"Samantha, don't let him get one of those. Your genius husband needs to learn a lesson," Briggs said, slapping Mike's hand away from my plate.

"What did you do this time?" I asked Mike, cutting up my pancakes. Mike laughed uncomfortably and looked down, avoiding my eyes.

"Tell her, Mike," Briggs said as he poured more batter into the pan.

"I… overreacted when I saw a guy stealing chips from a taco stand," Mike said. He reached again for my pancakes, but Briggs hit his hand again with his spatula.

"'Overreacted' is an understatement. He chased this guy for about 10 blocks before we could actually catch up with him. Nearly blew his cover, the idiot." Briggs glared at Mike.

"Mike!" I said. "That was extremely stupid." But I gave in and handed him my fork. He took a bite of my pancakes, then gave me another kiss.

"Alright, alright, enough with the happy married couple thing," Charlie complained.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on a girl, Charlie," DJ said as he headed out the door. Charlie threw her shoe, but he was already gone.

"Where's DJ going?" asked Johnny as he came into the house from the beach. In his hands he had a bag with a weird looking fruit inside of it.

"He's still working those illegal birds, remember?" I answered, proud of myself for remembering.

"Oh yeah…" Johnny started cutting open whatever he had bought at the farmer's market. The second he broke the skin, a distinctly moldy smell permeated the room.

"Jeez, Johnny, I don't think that's any good anymore!" I said, covering my nose with my shirt.

"What the hell is that, wet shoes and cheese?" Charlie asked. She looked revolted.

"I gotta eat this stuff, it's durian fruit! I'm undercover with the Malaysians, I've gotta sweat this stuff out to smell the part." Johnny continued cutting the disgusting fruit.

"Well, at least it smells better than you normally do," I said, grinning at Mike. Briggs laughed so hard he let a pancake burn.

"That is _cold_, Sammy! Don't play me like that!" In payback, he put a piece of his nasty fruit on my pancakes.

"You trying to poison my wife?" Mike asked indignantly.

"Gross, Johnny!" I tried to flick the fruit off my pancakes before they were contaminated.

"What are you doing with your day, m'dear?" Mike asked, eating another bite of my pancakes.

"I'm still working out my lesson plans—I've only just begun planning the second week of class," I reached for my bag of school stuff.

"What grade are you teaching again, Sam?" Charlie asked.

"11th grade—US History," I grinned. Southern California was great for me. A teacher in a nearby school retired and no one had stepped up to take her place, until I found out that Mike and I were going to Graceland. I knew how lucky I was to be teaching an advanced placement class as a new teacher.

Johnny began opening the mail and handing it out. He gave both Briggs and Mike a psych order from the bureau because of the "world famous Russian shootings".

"I didn't pull the trigger," Mike complained, resting his head on my shoulder. I stroked his hair sympathetically—he hated visiting psychologists.

"But you watched two guys get shot, by me," Briggs said, flipping through his own psych order. "Besides, everyone on our island of misfit toys needs a little head shrinking. Including Miss Samantha, I'm willing to bet." Briggs winked at me and I glared back.

"I'm not as crazy as the rest of you seem to think I am," I said angrily, stabbing at my pancakes while Mike laughed.

"Briggs, where's Lauren?" Charlie asked.

"Upstairs, being Lauren," Briggs answered, flipping a few more pancakes. Mike saw my slight grimace and rubbed my shoulder sympathetically.

Married agents going undercover were rare, or so everyone had told me. I knew it was rare for agents to even be married by Mike's age, but we couldn't help that. We were the first couple to come to Graceland—if we weren't married, they wouldn't have allowed it. But everyone in the house had been welcoming; at least, as welcoming as federal agents ever were. It took them a while to warm up to the idea of a civilian living in the house, but once they accepted it, they were friendly enough. Briggs was cryptic and hard to read, but he was always polite to me. Charlie was helpful and welcoming, and we got along really well (even though Mike pulled his gun on her the first time he saw her). DJ was gone most of the time, but when he was around we were friendly. And Johnny was never mean to anyone—he was thrilled at the idea of a civilian to make fun of. But Lauren had been cold from the moment we first set foot in the house. I understood that it was hard on her to have her partner replaced by, well, _us_, but she didn't even try to hide her resentment. The other agent, Paige, I hadn't met yet, but I hoped she'd be more like Charlie than like Lauren.

"What did you do to piss Lauren off so much?" Charlie asked, finishing off her pancakes.

"I moved some stuff around in the closet. She made it quite clear that I wasn't to touch anything and that I shouldn't even bother unpacking. But my dresses were getting wrinkled!" I was upset that Lauren didn't like me, but even more upset that she didn't like Mike. My unpacking seemed to make her even more resentful toward him, and I worried how that would affect their relationship, should they ever have to work together.

"You should talk to her, Briggs," Charlie said.

"I'm going to get dressed," I said, pushing away from the counter and leaving my pancakes unfinished. I heard Mike follow after me, but I didn't turn. When we got to our room, I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to at least look cheerful. But talking about Lauren upset me, and Mike could see it. He could read me like an open book, and no matter how much I tried to hide my true feelings, he could always see right through me.

"Sam, it's not your fault," he said, crouching down in front of me. "She would have hated me anyway, just because she thinks it's my fault Donnie is out of the house. You're just… salt in the wound."

"Thanks, that makes me feel so much better," I said, lying back onto the bed. Mike lay down beside me and took me in his arms. "Why are we even here, Mike?" I put my head on his chest and settled into his embrace. "You said we could go wherever we wanted, and we decided that D.C. would be best. But here we are, on the other side of the country."

"I don't know, Sam, but there's nothing we can do about it now; besides, do you think you could have gotten a job teaching AP in D.C.? This is a great opportunity for you!" He kissed my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair.

"But it's not just about me, Mike. What about you? How does this factor into your career, how does this affect your well-laid plans?" Mike had always had a plan. I threw a wrench into them when we decided to get married, but luckily for me he had a plan B. I guess planning becomes second nature when you're an F.B.I. agent.

"You know what they say about well-laid plans of mice and men," Mike joked, trying to sound unconcerned. But I could read him almost as well as he could read me, and I knew something was wrong. I pulled away to look at him, just in time to see him rearrange is face into a neutral expression.

"Mike, what was that call about? The one you got when we were on the beach?" I asked. The entire house celebrated Mike "popping his cherry" (going on his first mission) with a celebration on the beach, and he had taken a call that I knew had shaken him at the time. I didn't ask—I learned a long time ago not to ask if he didn't volunteer the information—but this seemed serious, and it wouldn't be the first time he kept things secret trying to protect me.

"I can't tell you. This is one of those things that I really and truly have to keep secret," he said. I huffed and lay back down angrily. He grinned and situated himself on top of me. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me." He began kissing my face in the way he knew I liked, trying to get me to stop pouting. Eventually he succeeded.

Whenever he kissed me, it felt desperate, almost frantic. It felt like he was trying to kiss me as much as he could before he lost me… or I lost him. Today was no different. The second our lips touched, he grabbed my waist and flipped me on top of him. He ran his hands along my waist, up and down, as though memorizing my figure. I ran my hands through his hair and sighed at his touch. More slowly, he turned again so he was on top of me. His hand ran up the length of my leg, making me tremble and clutch him even closer to me.

Before I could even comprehend the bliss I was experiencing, there was a knock on our door. I slid out from underneath Mike and he ran to open the door while I tried to fix my hair and clothes.

Briggs stuck his head in our room and said simply: "I thought about it, and your plan is awesome. We get rolling this afternoon. Told you I'd think about it!" and he left as abruptly as he had come in. Mike turned around and looked exulted. Needless to say, I was extremely confused. Mike thrust his fists in the air victoriously and fell over onto the bed, his head in my lap. I looked down at him expecting an explanation.

"I had an idea for Briggs' operation with Bello, but at first he told me it was crap. But I guess we're going for it! I get to be a marine!" Mike looked so excited, but I couldn't help voicing my concerns.

"He thought your idea was crap, but now he's going for it? Could this be Briggs trying to teach you a lesson or something? Is that the kind of thing he would do?" I wouldn't put it past Briggs to teach Mike a lesson the hard way. But putting the whole operation in danger would be going pretty far, even for Briggs.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't a good day. I spent most of the day milling around the house, trying to focus on lesson plans. But it was only Mike's second undercover operation, and I wasn't quite used to it yet. I obsessively checked my cell phone, waiting to hear some news, good or bad. At least Briggs let me stay in the command center on Mike's first undercover operation, but I lost that privilege…

I wasn't cut out for F.B.I. work. When the Russian cartel sent Mike in to kill Donnie, the agent he had replaced, (although we didn't know it was him at the time), I was hysterical.

"Oh my God, he's gonna get killed! Briggs, get him out of there!" I had always been emotional, and I couldn't stop the tears from falling now.

"Sam, I really need you to shut up right now," Briggs said, pushing me back into a chair. "I need to listen and I can't do that while you're screaming at me." Charlie put her hands on my shoulders to keep me in the chair and forced me to look into her eyes.

"Samantha, calm down. Mikey's smart, he's going to figure this out, and we're here monitoring the situation. You need to calm down." I couldn't stop the tears from falling, but I kept myself quiet… until I heard the gunshots. The tiniest of cries escaped my mouth, but I muffled it when I saw Lauren glaring daggers. When I heard Mike's voice I almost fainted with relief. I sagged in my chair and listened to him try to explain the situation. When it became clear that Donnie was not going to shoot him, the tears were falling for a different reason. Briggs had left, so I couldn't apologize to him, but I tried talking to Lauren.

"Lauren, I'm sorry. This is his first time and I wasn't prepared for this…" but Lauren turned and walked away from me without any acknowledgment. So (in my need to apologize to someone), I apologized to Gerry, the supervising agent of Graceland.

"I'm sorry, Gerry. I'm not really cut out for this," I said, trying to sounds as though I wasn't worried anymore. Gerry looked at me with something that was half sympathy, half exasperation.

"I've never worked with a married agent before," Gerry said. "I was surprised when Mike said he had a wife to think about. Aren't you two a little young to be married?"

"Would you believe me if I said we were high school sweethearts?" I said with a faint smile. Gerry smiled sympathetically. "We waited as long as we could—I didn't want to interfere with his plans to become assistant director of the F.B.I. someday. But there wasn't a point in waiting anymore. When he proposed I… I thought he was joking." I laughed nervously, still listening for sounds of trouble. "But we had been dating for six years before he went to Quantico. He didn't want to go to Virginia without me."

"So you were married before Mike went into the academy? And he _still _graduated top of his class?" Gerry looked impressed.

"He was always an A+ student," I said, remembering all the times he had helped me study for tests in high school—he was an excellent tutor, in more ways than one.

I was only a freshman when we started dating, but he was already a junior. When he graduated, we went through two years of a long-distance relationship. He got into the college of his dreams and, despite being on the other side of the country, I was so proud of him and excited for him. Those were the two hardest years of our relationship. But when I graduated I went to a college about an hour away from his, and we were able to see a lot more of each other. I was a sophomore in college when he was applying to the academy, and when he got accepted, he proposed. I was 19 years old when we got married.

We found a small apartment in Virginia, but money was tight and we were both full-time students. I was finishing my degree and working as a waitress; he was going through intensive training. There were some nights we didn't see each other until midnight or later. He would leave for entire weekends for on-location training and I would leave for conferences. Our first two years of marriage were hardly ideal circumstances. But we knew it was the right thing for us. If it were possible, we would have gotten married when I graduated high school. We didn't want to wait, but Mike had everything planned out and he assured me that waiting would only make our marriage better. And he was right, as always.

When Mike returned to command after Briggs saved his life, I ran straight into his arms. My tears flowed freely, and he held me tight. He was shaking, but he assured me he was fine. But Gerry sat both of us down and said that I couldn't stay in command centers while Mike was undercover. I couldn't meet Mike's eyes when Gerry described my behavior, but he never let go of my hand. Briggs, surprisingly, tried to persuade Gerry to let me stay, but even I agreed after a while that it wasn't worth distracting and endangering undercover operations for my own peace of mind.

So for Mike's current operation, acting as a Camp Pendleton marine, I was stuck in the house, waiting for any snippet of news. When I finally got the call, I was breathless with anticipation. Mike's voice sent waves of relief through my body. He told me everything had gone well and that we were going to celebrate on the beach when they got home. I waited by the door, desperate to hold him in my arms to be sure he was unharmed. The second the door opened, I shot up from the couch and ran to Mike. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him and I kissed him the same way he always kissed me—desperately, frantically. When we both came up for air, Briggs and Johnny were staring at us.

"Sorry," I said breathlessly, still holding Mike tightly. "Today has not been a very good day." Mike put his hand to my cheek and kissed me again. Briggs and Johnny left the room so we could say what we really wanted to say.

"I'm fine, really, don't worry, it's over," Mike wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and buried his face in my hair. I took a deep breath and rubbed his shoulders.

"Did they believe you were a marine?" I tried to joke, looking at his uniform.

"Are you kidding? I look like a recruitment poster," he said, putting his hands on his hips and looking off into the distance.

"Alright, Captain America. I have to say that you look… sexy," I said. I put my arms around his neck and brought his face closer to mine. He put his hand to the nape of my neck and crashed his lips against mine. His other arm, wrapped tightly around my waist, lifted me off my feet and lay me down on the couch. I didn't care that Briggs and Johnny were in the other room, I didn't care that anyone could open the door at any time, all I wanted was Mike, and I had him safe in my arms. Of course, that changed when the door actually opened and Charlie came into the room.

"Oh… don't let me interrupt," she said, looking at my flushed face and Mike's position on top of me. I blushed furiously and slid out from underneath him.

"Hi, Charlie… How was your day?" I didn't dare look at Mike.

"Boring and unproductive, compared to Mike's; so I hear. How many bears did you fight off again?" Charlie looked mildly amused.

"Bears?!" I asked incredulously. "You fought _bears_?" I needed to hear the whole story.

"It's a long story," he said, smiling at Charlie. "And we have a little celebration waiting for us at the beach, I believe." He took my hand and led me out the back door toward our bonfire spot. It wasn't until everyone was sitting around the fire with a cold beer that I finally got the whole story.

"So what exactly happened today?" I asked Briggs, Johnny, and Mike. Johnny sat up excitedly, looking from Briggs to Mike with an exhilarated look on his face.

"Let me tell the story!" he said with a grin. He paused and hit a dramatic pose. "So there he was: surrounded by four ferocious bears. One gun, four bullets. The first bear comes at him," Johnny made a gun with his hand and pointed it at DJ. "BAM!" DJ looked back at Johnny, unimpressed. "Come on, dude, you gotta work with me, here!" Johnny looked imploringly at DJ until he fell over, playing dead. "The second one comes in from the left—BAM!" This time, the "bullet" was meant for me. I fell dramatically into Mike's lap, sobbing pitifully. Mike draped his arms around my waist, looking amused. "The third bear comes in from behind, but Mikey's too quick—BAM!" Briggs laughed at Johnny's antics.

"Come on, dude, I thought we were on the same side!" he laughed, playing along. "Oh, I hope there's honey in heaven," he said as he fell over into the sand. By now, we were all in stitches, but Johnny didn't stop.

"And one more, sneaking out through the shadows, but by now it was child's play—BAM!" Johnny pointed his "gun" at the approaching Paige, who looked extremely bemused.

"You're a bear, and Mikey just shot you," Briggs said, holding a hand out for her beer so she could die appropriately. With a nod of understanding, Paige fell and landed gracefully on the rock next to Briggs. Everyone murmured appreciatively of her dramatic death.

"And that is the tale of… of… Merciless Mike!" Johnny said with a flourish. We all applauded and Johnny took a slight bow. I didn't move from my comfortable position in Mike's lap, but everyone else sat up to continue drinking.

"I was impressed, Mike, you did great work today." For Briggs, that was positively gushing. Mike tried to hide his smile, but I knew Briggs' praise was important to him. I smiled at Briggs, then I sat up to finish my beer.

"I'm going to go stick my feet in the water for a bit," I said, standing up. "You stay here and enjoy your victory," I told Mike as he got up to follow me. He gave me a quick kiss, then went to get another drink.

I was still reveling in the novelty of having the ocean so close. I took advantage of every opportunity to soak my feet in the salty water or to lie out in the sand. I closed my eyes and listened to the waves, inhaling the crisp ocean air. I jumped when I opened my eyes to see Briggs next to me.

"You're really loving the beach life, aren't you?" he asked as he took off his shoes to stand in the waves with me.

"It's just so beautiful here that it feels almost wasteful to not enjoy it every second I can," I replied, looking out over the moonlit waves.

"Listen, I know today was hard for you," Briggs said, watching my face. "But I want you to know: your husband is smart. He's good at what he does. And it's my job to keep him safe and out of trouble. Or, to get him out of trouble at least," he said with a smile. "I'm sorry we can't keep you up to speed with what's happening, but I can promise you: I will always do everything in my power to bring Mike home safely, every time. I don't want to have to endure your wrath if God forbid something happened to him." We both laughed quietly and remained silent for a few seconds.

"Thank you, Briggs," I said finally. "You can't understand how much he means to me," I said, looking back at the happy gathering by the fire. It amazed me how, well, _normal_ everyone looked. If I were to just walk by, I would never guess that the people sitting around the fire put their lives on the line every day and live entangled in a web of lies and deception. "I know it's unorthodox—Mike and me. I want you to know how grateful I am that you and everyone in the house accepted us. Thank you for just rolling with the punches and helping us adapt to this life. We can't thank you enough," I said, taking his hand. He smiled easily and returned the pressure of my hand.

"That's our job: rolling with the punches," he said with a laugh. "Don't worry about it. You guys are doing great—_both_ of you," he said in response to my incredulous look.

"So you've forgiven me for my… freak-out at the command center?" I asked, unwilling to believe it.

"There was nothing to forgive. He's your husband. You're allowed to worry about him." He spoke easily, but there was an emotion behind his eyes that I couldn't place. "I think we all, secretly, want what you have," he said quietly. "I think we all want someone to worry about us."

"Well, now you have me. I worry about all of you. I think my entire time here is going to be spent praying and worrying. You are all part of my life now," I said, trying to look in his eyes, but he was avoiding my gaze.

"If you spent your time worrying about all of us, you'd go crazy," he laughed. But I could see that my words had comforted him, and that made me happy. "Let me get you anther beer—I bet you need one," Briggs said, heading back to the fire. I followed, and sat down between Mike and Charlie, beer in hand. Mike placed his hand gently on my knee and I rested my head on his shoulder. Everything, for a brief moment, felt perfect. Just perfect.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone else had groaned, but I was excited. They had all heard the story of Charlie's family ragú hundreds of times before, but for Mike and me it was a new experience.

The kitchen was where I felt most at home in Graceland. As resident civilian, I was in charge of cooking most of the time, not that they were always around to eat. I didn't mind—I was a strange mix of housekeeper, cook, sister, and mother to all of them, and I was OK with that. But it was nice, for once, to just be able to just sit in the kitchen, watch Charlie chop up tomatoes and basil, and hear her tell the story of the DeMarco family ragú. It began with the Inquisition, and the terror that swept through Italy as the Catholics tried to eliminate the Protestants.

"My great-grandmother's great-grandmother's _great-grandmother _ran the kitchen at the cathedral in Naples. Her name was Francesca," Charlie said, chopping tomatoes.

"That math doesn't add up," Mike said in my ear. He was standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist as I sat by the counter.

"Shut up, Mike," I said, leaning back to cover his mouth with my hand.

"This isn't a story about math, just listen," DJ said. Mike kissed my hand (which was still covering his mouth) and I giggled. Charlie glared at me, so I shut up, too.

"As Francesca prepared her world-famous ragú for the Inquisitors she heard a knock at the cathedral door: Nicolo, a handsome young cordwainer begging for sanctuary."

"…What's a cordwainer?" This was Mike's second interruption, and even I glared at him.

"A luxury shoemaker—don't interrupt." Charlie pointed her knife threateningly at Mike, effectively shutting him up. She went back to her story. "Knowing that this young man faced torture or death, she hid him in the pantry. She promised to keep the ragú warm until the local vicar declared the city cleansed."

"Wait, wait, I thought it was the archdeacon who would 'declare the city cleansed' or whatever," Johnny said, scratching his head.

"Well now it's the vicar, same thing," DJ said, as enthralled in the story as I was. But I couldn't help correcting him.

"A vicar was a representative _of_ the people in a congregation, an archdeacon was a _bishop's_ representative _to _a congregation, there's a difference," I told DJ. Charlie glared at me again and I blushed. "Sorry… history teacher," I mumbled.

"No more interruptions or you don't get the rest of the story," Charlie said, looking around the room (while gesturing emphatically again with the knife) to make sure we were all going to be quiet. "After three long days, the Inquisitors finally left Naples. Nicolo survived on the promise and the smell of the ragú," Charlie continued as she chopped the basil. "They fell in love, and vowed to pass on the sauce to their children, and their children's children until the end of days," Charlie finished with a smile. Johnny grinned and clapped slowly.

"Every single time…" he groaned, putting his head on his arms.

"This is Francesca's ragú—it takes three days to prepare and the rules are simple: don't touch and don't be late. There will be no leftovers."

"The best… bedtime story… EVER," DJ

"Need any help?" I asked as Johnny left, shaking his head.

"That depends: do you have ancestors from medieval Naples?" Charlie asked, looking me up and down as if she already knew the answer… which she did. I grimaced, obviously a no. "Well then, thanks for the offer, but no touching." Charlie turned back to her ragú and kept stirring.

"Well, in that case, I will go to bed," I said, taking one last deep breath, savoring the smell of simmering tomatoes and herbs. "Coming, Mike?" Mike jumped, as if I had interrupted a very deep contemplation.

"Yeah, in a minute," he said, turning to the sink. "I have to finish the dishes."

I headed upstairs and went into the tiny room I shared with Mike. Graceland wasn't built for couples—we were sleeping in a twin-sized bed, which was rather a tight fit. But, luckily, Mike and I came to Graceland with next to nothing. All of our stuff fit surprisingly well into our little room, and we slept so tightly intertwined that a twin bed was almost large enough for the two of us.

I pulled my pajamas on and slid into bed, settling into the John Adams biography I had been trying to read since the plane ride to LAX. But I had barely started when Mike came into our room. He collapsed onto our bed and put his head in my lap, holding on to me tightly. His eyes were closed and he looked exhausted.

"Hey, stranger," I joked, stroking his hair. He groaned and nuzzled me the same way he nuzzled his pillow while he slept. For a few minutes we sat in silence, merely enjoying the simple pleasure of being alone together with the house, for once, quiet. Finally he sighed and sat up, looking at me with sleepy eyes.

"I'm reprising my role as a Pendleton marine tomorrow," he said, trying to sound conversational and unconcerned. "Bello asked Briggs for me specifically. I don't know what it's about," he said, his voice finally showing his nerves.

"Nervous?" I asked, taking his hand.

"Well, yes. But Sam, don't you realize what this means? Bello is the biggest heroin supplier in Southern California, and we're actually getting close to him. Really close," he said, breathless with excitement. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my own nerves. Mike was obviously excited, but I didn't have to be in the F.B.I. to guess how dangerous Bello was. I felt Mike shift and lean toward me. I didn't open my eyes.

"Nervous?" He threw my own question back at me, putting his hands on my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to keep my tears in check. He kissed my temples, my forehead, my still closed eyes, my nose, and finally my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tightly. He broke the kiss and pulled back to look at me. I tried to smile, but it faltered.

When he crawled into bed, I put my head on his chest, listened to him breathe. He ran his fingers through my hair, something that always put me to sleep. But my mind was racing, hoping to God that tomorrow would go well. If I didn't have Mike, if I didn't have his arms holding me, his voice reassuring me, I didn't have anything.

But I needn't have worried. As they left, Mike and Briggs both assured me that everything would be fine and that he would come home safely. And, of course, they were right. But something that happened that day shook him, and it wasn't until we got into bed that night that he told me what it was.

"He wants me to teach his recruits how to shoot," he said, running his hands through his hair. "I'm supposed to teach a bunch of criminals to shoot with military precision. How much of a threat does that pose to police officers, and to us? What if my teaching them causes the death of a police officer? Sam, what do I do?" he asked desperately. I knew this was really troubling him—he so rarely asked for my help at times like this. He tried so hard to keep me out of F.B.I. business, but I was his wife. There were some things I was bound to find out about.

"Well, you can't refuse him—that's a surefire way to get killed. But you don't have to teach them right away." Mike looked confused and shook his head, about to protest. "No, listen! You drag it out. 'Teach' them basic gun maintenance, the history of guns and artillery, what the different parts of the gun are and how they function. You could spend weeks just on that!" I said, trying to make him understand. Comprehension was dawning on his face.

"That's brilliant!" Mike said, kissing my forehead. "Let me go run it by Briggs," he said as he ran to the door. When he came back, he was still excited. "Briggs loves it—he says it'll let me keep my head and stall Bello, which we want. That was a stroke of genius, Sam!" He kissed me fiercely. This obviously had been weighing on his mind and I, apparently, had relieved a lot of stress. When he finally came to bed, I could practically hear the gears whirring in his mind, planning for tomorrow. I tried to reassure myself that he would be fine, but I still hated being left at home while he went off to face God knew what. But he would be with Briggs, and he had a good plan. I still fell asleep fitfully and woke up exhausted, but I made myself go downstairs to see Mike and Briggs off in the morning. When Briggs came downstairs, he looked at me with surprise.

"You're wearing _that_ to command?" he asked, looking at my pajamas in surprise.

"…What?" I asked, hardly daring to believe what Briggs was saying.

"This whole thing about teaching them basic gun stuff? That was your idea. You should be around to see it carried out," Briggs said. My heart leapt and I ran at Briggs, throwing my arms around his neck.

"Thank you thank you thank you! Give me two seconds to change," I said, sprinting upstairs. I threw some clothes on and came downstairs in a rush. "Can we go?" I asked as a grabbed Mike's hand.

"Alright, alright, let me get my stuff," Briggs said, grinning at how excited I was. We sobered pretty quickly when we got to command, though. Mike ran over the plan quickly with Briggs, kissed me (for luck, so he said), and headed out the door. I took a deep breath, then turned toward Briggs. He looked apprehensive, as though he thought I would burst into tears, but I nodded at him with a small smile. My behavior would be much more under control than it was the first time, I had promised Mike… and myself.

"Alright, everyone, listen up. Warren is in there with a lot of heat, let's stay alert," Briggs said to the other agents in command. The other agents who didn't know Mike very well were all extremely confused as to why I was even in the command center. "We've got Mrs. Mike Warren breathing down our necks," Briggs said, pointing at me. Comprehension dawned on the agents' faces. "So let's make sure Warren stays safe." I got some smiles, but most of them stayed focused on their work. I wasn't discouraged—I was used to agents being cold. It's what they do.

Briggs directed me to the soundboard where we had audio connecting us to Mike. I heard Bello bragging about his conquest of Los Angeles.

"… this was only going to end in one of two ways," Bello was saying.

"You join or you die—like Alexander the Great," Mike said. That history reference was for my especial benefit, I knew. He knew I was listening, and he was glad. I smiled weakly, trying to keep reminding myself that everything would go well.

"Bello, the targets are up," I heard a second voice say.

"Who's that?" I asked Briggs, because it was a voice I didn't recognize.

"Eddie, one of Bello's lieutenants," Briggs answered, still engrossed in the audio. "He doesn't like Mikey very much," he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I took another deep breath, trying to slow my heart rate.

"Yeah, you might wanna take those down, Eddie," Mike said, and my breath stopped in my throat. "We won't be shooting today."

"Okay, okay, this is the hard sell," Briggs said, glancing at me then looking around at the rest of the agents. "Get ready to go on my word." All the breath was sucked out of my lungs and the only thing that mattered was Mike's voice.

"Why won't we be shooting today, Michael?" Bello's voice was quietly dangerous, like a lion stalking its prey.

"Eddie, may I see your gun?" Mike asked, sounding cool and confident—and probably driving Eddie crazy.

"God, Mikey," I said, burying my face in my hands. Why he was egging on a dangerous criminal who already disliked him I'll never know.

"Before we learn to fire our weapons, we must first understand our weapons." I ran my fingers through my hair, praying that my idea would work. "Today, we field-strip our firearm. Disassembly, cleaning, and reassembly."

"What is this? Is this really what you are paying him for?" Eddie's voice sounded frustrated, and he received no answer. I held my breath, watching Briggs. His face was concentrated, intense. I heard a gunshot and I jumped to my feet, fearing the worst. But then I heard shattering glass and Mike's wonderful, beautiful voice. Relief surged through me like an electric shock, and I couldn't even focus on the words he was saying. Every time a gunshot rang out, it was answered by the sound of shattering glass, and I knew that my Mike was hitting every target he was aiming for.

"Yes, Edward," I head Bello say with satisfaction. "This is precisely what I am paying him for." Briggs looked at me and we both grinned, knowing that the worst was over.

"Get comfortable, people. We're in for a long day." Briggs put his arm around my shoulders and I relaxed, trying to imagine what Mike looked like handling that gun. If only there was picture along with the audio…

When the work was done and Mike came back to command, I ran straight to him and threw my arms around his neck.

"You did it; I knew you could do it!" I said, nearly collapsing from the relief of actually holding him in my arms. He leaned back and grabbed my chin, tilting my face up towards his.

"Did you doubt I could?" he asked, mischief in his eyes. He leaned in and brushed my lips lightly.

"After hearing you handle that gun…" I showed him the effect his excellent marksmanship had had on me. I crashed my lips against his and he lifted me off my feet wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Alright, alright, save it for tonight," I heard Briggs say. He clapped Mike on the back with a smile. "Great work today, Mikey. Keep that up and we're in business," he said, winking at me. "Good thing your wife is so smart."

"Yeah, I'm a pretty lucky guy," Mike said, with a look that made my knees go weak. I kissed him again, but I could tell he regretted greeting me so enthusiastically with so many agents watching. Most were smiling indulgently, some looked confused as though they'd never seen a married agent before, but some looked disapproving at our behavior. I smiled uncomfortably and looked up at Mike apologetically. He smiled easily, though, and kissed my forehead gently. "What do you say we go home? I think I need some dinner." I grabbed his hand and led him to the car. When I was sure Briggs couldn't hear us anymore, I told him what had been on my mind all day.

"The way you handled that gun, Mike… oh my God, that was the sexiest thing I ever heard," I said, grabbing him by the belt loops and bringing him close to me. It wasn't until he brought his hand to my face that I realized I was gnawing on my lip.

"You know I love when you do that," he said, running his fingers across my lower lip, making me shiver. But as he leaned in for a kiss, I smiled and slipped away.

"I have to get home and make dinner," I said lightly. As I slid into the car, he grabbed my leg just above my knee. My breath caught in my throat—the desire coming out of his eyes could have burned a hole right through me.

"You're a wretched little tease, you know that?" He leaned so close our noses were almost touching. The success of the day had obviously made him feel very powerful… in more ways than one. After dinner that night, he thanked me most thoroughly for my help in his operation. As I fell asleep next to him, I thought about how well he was doing with our new life and how happy I was that we moved to Graceland.

The next morning, I was awake before him for once. I let him sleep and jumped in the shower (and found some interesting bruises and sore spots from our enthusiastic night). As I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, the shower door opened and Mike joined me.

"I don't know how you have the shower so hot, it's like a sauna in here," he said, kissing my shoulder and slipping his hands around my waist.

"If you can't stand the heat get out of the… shower?" I laughed as I turned back to face him. "You should have slept more," I said, putting my hands on his chest. Without an answer his hand curled into the wet hair in the nape of my neck, pulling just enough that my throat was vulnerable to his searching lips. My hands went to his hair, gently scratching his scalp as I moaned. His lips brushed against my collarbone, down the curve of my breasts, until he knelt in front of me, kissing my stomach, steadily exploring my entire body—my body that I had surrendered to him completely in the past two years of our marriage. He ran his hand up my thigh, gently brushing the small bruises his hands had left the night before. He kissed my thigh, getting closer and closer until he finally kissed my most intimate of spots. I whimpered slightly, squirming from his firm ministrations. He grabbed my waist, his strong hands holding me steady as he used his tongue to explore every crevice of me. When his fingers joined his tongue a groan escaped me, a groan I was unable to hold back. He brought a second finger to join his first, pumping in and out of me while I tried to keep myself from alerting the whole house of what we were doing.

"Come on, Samantha," he said gently, stroking my inner walls. "Let go." He gently bit my thigh, sending me over the edge. Stars exploded in front of my eyes, my hips bucked, and I rode the wave as smoothly as I could, considering it was taking a lot of willpower to keep from screaming. It was only the firm hold he had on my waist that kept me upright. I laughed breathlessly.

"Didn't get enough last night?" I joked. He stood up, his eyes serious.

"I will never have enough of you, Samantha. If we both live to be 100, I will never stop loving you, never stop learning about you, and _never_ get enough of you."

If only our lives could have stayed that perfect. We had no idea what this day, the next, or the one after that held in store for us. But for the foreseeable future, I had my Mike. I had him, he had me, and that was really all we needed.


	4. Chapter 4

At 5:00, the time finally arrived. We all crowded into the kitchen, jostling and pushing each other to form a line. Charlie stood by the stove, watching with amusement.

"Ah, watch it Johnny, you're stepping on my toes!" Briggs was just as eager to get to dinner as everyone else was.

"Guys, GUYS! Stop it, relax! I made pounds of this stuff!" Charlie said.

"Alright, Mike and Sam, this is your first time tasting Charlie's family ragú. Are you ready for a whole new world of flavor up in your faaace?" Paige asked in a sing-song voice. I grinned, so ready to taste this amazing ragú none of them could shut up about.

"I skipped my last two meals for this, come on, let's go!" Mike was tapping out a quick rhythm on my shoulders, his excitement uncontainable.

"Really? You haven't eaten today, even after your… _activities_ this last night? And this morning, in the shower?" Paige asked, looking meaningfully at Mike and me. I looked back at Mike in horror, then covered my quickly reddening face. Everyone laughed and I thought I would die of embarrassment. Mike laughed uncomfortably and tried to blow it off.

"Whatever, _I_ was with my _wife_. That makes it OK. Besides, didn't Johnny sleep with some crazy marijuana farmer last night?" Everyone abruptly stopped laughing, looked incredulously at Mike, then burst into peals of laughter louder than before. I raised my face from my hands and looked around, completely nonplussed. And so, apparently, was Mike. "What's so funny?"

"Marijuana farmer?" Briggs asked in a nasally voice that sounded uncannily like Mike's.

"Mike, I know you're a white boy, but come _on_ man, that sounded ridiculous," DJ said through his laughter.

"Never say that again."

"Please don't say 'marijuana' again, Michael." By this point, even I was laughing at him.

"I'm not a kid, I can say marijuana if I want!" Mike said, and this time I heard it, too. Everyone shushed him when he said "marijuana", not because they didn't like the word, but because when Mike said it, he sounded like the whitest boy that ever lived.

"Sam, say 'marijuana'," Briggs said, shushing everyone else.

"… Marijuana?" I said hesitantly, unsure of my own pronunciation. They all erupted into laughter again, and I knew I sounded as ridiculous as Mike.

"OK, you're not allowed to say it either," Charlie said, shaking her head at our obvious whiteness.

"What do the kids even call it these days?" Mike asked, looking at all of them with amusement. Johnny grinned, rising to the occasion.

"Alphabetical order?" Johnny asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Reverse!" Paige challenged. Johnny grinned and began a long list of words that made almost no sense at all to me. "Reefer", apparently, was making a comeback. Also "baby", which I had never heard in my life.

"Hey, yo, you got some of that baby?" Mike asked with a low voice and a crooked smile.

"There you go!"

"Nailed it!"

"Samantha… now you!" Briggs said, pointing at me.

"Uhhhmm… hey dude, can I buy some reefer?" I said, looking around apprehensively. They laughed at me again.

"OK, Sam, you're just not allowed to talk about marijuana," Johnny said, still laughing. Briggs was shaking his head, but Paige promised to help me with my "street slang".

Finally, Charlie began tapping her glass as the timer reached its last few seconds.

"Gentlemen, ladiiiiies! The story of Francesca and Nicolo may be a thousand years old, but they waited the same three days we waited," Charlie proclaimed grandly.

"And we're not running from the Inquisition," Paige pointed out.

"Nah, man, we _are _the Inquisition," Johnny joked.

"Alright, alright, can we get straight to the 'without further ado' part?" DJ asked, practically dancing with anticipation.

"Without further ado," Charlie smiled indulgently and lifted the lid of the pot that had been simmering for a very long three days, "let's enjoy sauce night, kids!" There was a veritable stampede to reach the sauce that smelled heavenly and by now, even I was pushing to get at the stuff. But I suddenly heard Mike groan behind me, and I turned to look at him. He looked like he had just realized something horrible.

"It's my weekend to do the dishes," he said with a look of horror. "Oh GOD, she did that on purpose!" he whined, burying his head in my shoulder. I kissed the top of his head sympathetically. He looked up at me with the sad puppy eyes that I couldn't resist, and I sighed.

"I'll help with the dishes, don't worry," I said. He smiled like he knew that I would always cave to those puppy eyes… which, of course, I would. We kept moving forward in line, but as the newcomers, we were last. Of course.

"God, Charlie, this smells amazing," I said, holding my plate out for noodles and sauce.

"Oh, just wait till you taste it," Charlie winked at me. As she spooned some sauce onto my plate, I heard Mike's text message alert.

"Don't answer it," I implored, looking at him with apprehension. But he looked anyway.

"Briggs… It's Bello," he said, his face falling. He looked at Briggs with a resigned expression on his face. "We have to go, don't we?" I looked at Briggs imploringly, but he looked resigned, too.

"Yup—this sauce can wait, Bello can't. Hey, kids, we gotta run," Briggs addressed everyone but was looking straight at me. This time, I couldn't force my face into a smile. Everything, for a brief moment, had been perfect, and now Bello was messing it up.

"Am I coming, too?" I asked Mike. But Briggs shook his head.

"Nah, we don't need you this time, I think. You stay and enjoy sauce night," he said, looking longingly at the warm pot of ragú he was missing for Bello. I still walked them to the door, though, and tried to cheer Mike up.

"I'll save you some sauce, don't worry," I said, grabbing his hand. He looked at me and smiled sadly.

"There's no leftovers, remember?" he said, his expression unreadable.

"Then this will be another Graceland first, just like we were," I answered, not to be deterred. "I'll save some for you, too, Briggs."

"Fat chance. I'll be surprised if you can save one plate, even for Mikey," he said, but I silenced him with a look. Then I turned back to Mike.

"Be safe, OK?" I asked. I was worried, of course, but Mike had assured me that he had Bello in his pocket, and that Briggs would have control of the whole situation. But I still didn't want to let go of his hand. He held my chin in his hand and looked into my eyes.

"Always," he said, then leaned in and kissed me gently. He let go of me and headed out the door. I turned to look at Briggs.

"Make sure nothing happens to him," I said, looking after him. "He has to come back and eat his sauce." I smiled at Briggs, and he smiled back. He gave me a hug, then headed out after Mike. I walked back to the kitchen, where everyone sat waiting for me.

The scene almost brought tears to my eyes. They were all sitting around the table, their plates untouched, waiting for me. Knowing how excited they were to eat, I was touched that they were willing to wait for me. Charlie held out her hand and I sat next to her. Johnny grabbed my other hand, and all of a sudden we were praying.

It was unlike any other praying I had ever done in my life. In fact, I'm not even sure I would call it praying. We merely held each others' hands and sat in silence. Yet in that silence was every emotion I had ever felt in prayer: love, gratitude, fear, and that indefinable feeling of protection and compassion that only comes from a family. And that's what I had here in Graceland: a family. I felt truly at home, if only Mike could have been there.

"Alright, kids," Charlie said, squeezing my hand. "Dig in!" Everyone cheered and clapped and finally began to eat Charlie's famous ragú.

The sauce was delicious, of course. Mine only had one drop of bitterness in it: the fact that Mike wasn't there to enjoy it. But I told myself that he'd be home soon and I tried not to dwell on it. Instead, I tried to think of how I would persuade everyone to let me save a plate for Mike and Briggs. Fortunately, I didn't have to.

"Okay, guys, I know you want more, but this was supposed to be Mikey's first sauce night and he's not here. So, for the first time, I am saving a plate for him and none of you get to say anything about it," she glared around the room, only half kidding.

"Hear, hear!" I said, surprised to hear Paige's voice with mine. I turned and smiled at her gratefully and she grinned back. Johnny and DJ both groaned, but they didn't object.

Not for the first time, I thought about how lucky Mike and I were. I'd met plenty of federal agents, and I could count on one hand the agents I liked. But Graceland was full of people that I liked and who (I hoped) genuinely liked us back.

Of course, that affection only went so far. I was still stuck doing the dishes by myself until Mike came home. I checked my phone and the clock obsessively, but I had no idea when Mike would be back. I started on the dishes but left the big sauce pot for last. Just as I was finishing the plates and silverware, I heard the front door open. I dropped the plate I had been scrubbing back into the sink and grabbed a towel, running to the door to see who it was. Mike came into the kitchen, his face pale and drawn. I breathed a sigh of relief and put my arms around him. He hugged me back, but something was different. His hands were balled into tight fists against my back, and he stayed stiff and cold. I pulled back to look at him.

"Mike… What's wrong?" I said, searching his eyes. There was an emotion in his eyes that I couldn't place. I knew Mike; I knew his every feeling, every expression, and suddenly I was scared. His eyes were cold and dead, not full of the warmth that was always there when he looked at me. "Mike, what happened?" He turned away from me, but I followed him, keeping eye contact.

"Bello got suspicious of Eddie. Eddie took my gun and he shot himself. Right in front of me." My hands flew to my mouth, trying to ignore how dead Mike's voice sounded.

"Oh, God, Mike," I took him in my arms again, but he was still stiff and uncomfortable. Briggs came into the kitchen, and I caught his eye over Mike's shoulder. He nodded solemnly, and I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling. Mike didn't need my hysteria right now. I let him go and he pulled away, turning toward the sink. He wordlessly grabbed the sponge and the plates and started scrubbing. I put my hands on his shoulders and whispered, "I can do this, Mike, you should go to bed." But he jerked away from me.

"It's fine, I can do it." He wouldn't look at me. I looked down and took a deep breath, trying to control my tears. I stepped away from him, giving him space.

"I saved you some sauce," I said, putting his plate on the counter behind him.

"I thought there were no leftovers."

"I told you I'd save you some."

"Briggs missed sauce night, too," Mike said, still scrubbing the same plate.

"Mikey…" I tried to say something to help him, but there was nothing I could say.

"Go to bed, Samantha," he said without turning. He didn't sound angry, he didn't sound sad, he didn't even sound upset. That's what was so scary to me—he had no emotion at all. I couldn't keep my tears in check anymore, so I left quickly before Mike could see them.

"It's only sauce, Mike," I heard Briggs say as I left. I started walking up the stairs, but I only made it to the landing. I heard Briggs come up behind me.

"Sam…?" he asked apprehensively. I turned to face him, the tears falling fast. He put his arms around my shoulders, and I cried into his chest unabashedly. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm so, so sorry." He rubbed my back comfortingly, but I couldn't stop crying.

"It's just…" I tried to explain. "No one gets killed in training," I said, trying to stop crying, but failing. I stood with Briggs for a few minutes until I could control myself. "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my eyes on my sweater. "I just really didn't want Mike to see that." Briggs kissed my forehead sympathetically.

"Everything will be alright, I promise," Briggs said. But we both knew that was a promise he couldn't keep. Without a word—I had no words to say—I turned into my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to think straight and control my emotions. Mike didn't need to see me break down—he didn't need to be strong for me when he was already trying to be strong for himself. I wouldn't press the issue, because he didn't need that either. If he needed me, he would come to me. So I crawled into bed and tried to sleep. But before I could even close my eyes, Mike opened the door and came in. I sat up, my adrenaline still pumping.

"Hey," I said quietly. Mike didn't say a word, but just sat on the edge of the bed. I reached out to rub his back, but stopped myself. I had no idea what Mike was feeling, and I didn't know how to comfort him, which was even worse. But slowly, he began to lean back and he placed his head on my chest. I gently cradled his head and saw his tears begin to fall.

He so rarely cried in front of me, and seeing him cry was a guaranteed way to make me start. I stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulders, trying to think of something, anything to say. But that was when I realized that there was absolutely nothing I could say, no words that could possibly ease the pain that Mike was feeling. So we sat in silence for nearly half an hour, his tears drenching my shirt. I kept my own tears silent, but they were falling thickly. When Mike finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"He used _my_ gun. Bello suspected him because _I_ brought him in for questioning. This is my fault." His voice broke. I took his face in my hands and I made him look at me.

"No, Mike. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. This is _Bello_. This is Bello, and Bello alone. Don't blame yourself, please." He looked into my eyes, and for the first time that night, I saw life in his eyes. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him willingly, but he pulled back quickly, crying again.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I can't." he jerked away from me, sitting again on the edge of the bed with his back to me.

"Mike, take a shower. A long, warm shower. Then come to bed. That's what you need." This time, I stretched out my hand and brushed along his spine. He turned and grabbed my hand. He gently kissed each of my fingers, then left for the bathroom without a word. When I heard the shower running, I knew he had taken my advice.

I thought incredulously of our blissful shower this morning, and the stark difference between then and now. How could so much change in one day? This morning, I had been at peace with the world. The day was perfect, until Mike got the text message from Bello. All of a sudden, I was angry. Not angry at Mike, not angry at Briggs or the F.B.I. No, I was angry at Bello. I was angry for what he had done, what he was still doing, to Mike. I was angry that he supplied drugs to most of Southern California, I was angry that it was necessary for Mike to investigate him in the first place. And I realized that there was nothing I could do to stop him.

I thought I had cried myself dry, but I proved myself wrong again. I buried my face in my hands and cried with abandon, but I pulled it together when I heard the water in the shower stop. By the time Mike came out of the bathroom, I was relatively calm and waiting for him. Wordlessly, he climbed into bed next to me, turned away from me, and didn't move again. I had never realized, but tonight I thought the twin sized bed seemed too small because, for the first time, I was not cradled comfortably against Mike. No, I was hugging my side of the bed, cold, and somehow entirely alone. If I felt this badly, I could only imagine how Mike was feeling. I couldn't keep my tears from falling, but I kept them silent. In my heart, I knew Mike's tears were silent, too.


	5. Chapter 5

His alarm went off at 6:00, just like any other morning. But for the first time since we had moved to Graceland, Mike leaned over and turned it off.

When I heard the alarm, I woke up as scared as I had been when I fell asleep the night before. My dreams hadn't been the greatest, but what scared me more was Mike turning the alarm off. What would be a normal occurrence in most houses really worried me. In the 7 years I had known Mike, he had slept in once, maybe twice, usually after a particularly long or grueling training session. I was always the one to oversleep. He was as regular as clockwork… but not anymore. For the next hour, I lay in bed listening to him breathe. I didn't dare fall asleep again—I didn't want to fall back into my nightmare.

I finally forced myself out of bed and headed to the kitchen. I wandered around, opening and closing cupboards without really seeing their contents. As I made a third circuit around the room, Johnny came in and watched me.

"What's the matter with you, housewife?" he asked. I sighed and turned to face him.

"Something happened last night." I was unsure how many details I was allowed to give, so I kept it purposely vague. "It really scared him, and now something's really wrong. He's never slept past 6:00 in his life, and now it's almost 8:30." Johnny put his arms around my shoulders and put his chin on the top of my head. I closed my eyes briefly, then pulled back to look at him. I was astonished to see him laughing. "It's not funny, Johnny!" I shoved him away, but somehow felt better. Nothing could be wrong when Johnny was laughing.

"I have an idea," he said, turning quickly and heading upstairs.

"Johnny, what are you doing?" I hurried after him and found him standing in front of the door to the bedroom I shared with Mike. "What's your big idea?" I asked apprehensively.

"I think it's time for Mikey to wake up," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No, Johnny, don't, let him sleep—" but he had already opened the door and let himself in. I knew there was no stopping him now. "At least be gentle with him," I said.

Johnny grinned, and promptly started to jump on the bed.

"Time to get up, dude! Your wifey is worried about you!" I hurried in and tried to pull him off the bed.

"I had a rough night last night, alright?" Mike said, muffled from within his pillows.

"Aw, did you? What happened?" Johnny asked, his voice full of mock concern.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Good! Cuz no one wants to hear about your shitty life," Johnny said. I rolled my eyes and finally pulled him off the bed. "Get up, we're playing football on the beach with Paige. You too, Sammy!"

"I'm not in the mood," Mike groaned.

"Ask your wife what she and Paige did yesterday, and you'll be in the mood," he said, winking at me. It took me a second to catch on to what he was talking about. "You've got 5 minutes, both of you!" He slammed the door behind him, and Mike buried his face back into the pillows. I sank down onto the bed and bent to quickly kiss his head.

"I hate Johnny right now," Mike said.

"He's right, though. You should get outside and play." I rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I just want to sleep," he said. I smiled to myself, then leaned down to whisper in his year.

"Paige and I went shopping yesterday," I said in the most seductive voice I could manage. "I got a new bikini…" I pulled away and he turned to look at me. He looked mildly interested, and I took advantage of it. I grabbed his hand, pulled him out of bed, and pushed him toward the bathroom. "So go get ready and come outside." When he closed the bathroom door, I pulled on the promised bikini and some shorts, then went downstairs to meet Johnny and Paige. Johnny whistled in appreciation of my new bikini. I threw some light punches his way and found myself truly laughing for the first time since last night.

"I knew a new bikini would get him out of bed," Paige joked. She put an arm around my waist and got serious. "How's he doing?" she asked, genuine concern in her eyes. I glanced up the stairs, thinking.

"He'll be OK," I said, and the crazy thing is, I actually believed it. When Mike finally came downstairs, he looked me up and down with undisguised appreciation. It was almost like seeing his old self… but not quite.

"Alright, it's football time!" Johnny grabbed the football and ran outside with the excitement of a boy half his age. We laughed and followed him, and I grabbed Mike's hand, holding it tightly. When we finally caught up to Johnny, he called Mike for his team.

"No, he's on my team!" I said, holding his hand tighter. At this point, I was still afraid to let him go too far away from me.

"Nope, Sam, you're stuck with me," Paige winked. "Hey, are you boys willing to make this a little more interesting?" She had a determined glint in her eye.

"Talk to me," Johnny said, rising to the challenge.

"When we win," Paige said, grinning at me, "you and Mike take our chores on the chore wheel." Mike, I was glad to see, actually grinned his old grin.

"Done," he said. Paige grabbed the ball and suddenly started running. Girls: 1. Boys: 0.

"First one to ten wins!"

The game was as exhilarating as I'd hoped it would be. Mike ran, he scored, he laughed, and I saw the cares and worries and pains of the night before begin to melt away. On the downside, Paige and I were losing. Badly. The score was 7 to 1 before Paige came up with her brilliant plan.

"Alright, Sam. We gotta put that new bikini and rockin' bod to use." I blushed, but she kept going. "If you can keep Mike distracted, I can get us some points. He can't keep his eyes off you in that new bikini as it is. I think we can catch up… unless you want to do all of Johnny's dishes this week." I grimaced.

"Okay," I said, adjusting the straps of my bikini. "Let's do this."

Johnny ran off with the ball with Paige sprinting to catch him. Before he could reach Johnny and get the ball, I ran at Mike and jumped on his back.

"What the hell?!" He grabbed my legs, trying to pull me off. But I wrapped my legs tighter around him and began to plant kisses on his neck and shoulders. He began spinning, trying to make me dizzy, but he lost his footing and we both fell to the sandy ground. I landed next to him and promptly rolled on top of him to pin him down as Paige ran past us to score a goal.

"Ha!" I laughed in his face. "We," I kissed his neck, "are catching up." He grabbed my wrists and suddenly my back was pressed against the sand and he was hovering over me.

"Not quite yet," he whispered in my ear, still holding my wrists above my head. But unfortunately for him, he kept falling for my tricks.

As he ran calling for Johnny to pass him the ball, I cut him off and pressed myself against him, forcing him to stop. When he had the ball, I chased after him and stole the ball while he was watching me run—which he did every time I got close to him. When he and Johnny called a break so they could compare throwing techniques, Paige and I watched in disbelief.

"When you girls are done exchanging make-up tips, will you throw the damn ball?" Paige asked, grinning. Mike and Johnny looked at each other, then turned and ran at us. Mike grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to the ground, and I heard Johnny and Paige hit the ground next to us. But I only had eyes for Mike. He was laughing, and the laugh reached his eyes. I finally saw the Mike that I knew and loved. He was coming back to me.

Eventually, we were beating them 9 to 7 when Johnny admitted defeat (because he needed to shower before he and Paige left for their mission… so he said), and Paige and I exulted in our win.

"Guess you're stuck doing the dishes for _two_ weeks now," I said, poking Mike in the ribs. He sighed, then suddenly grinned and picked me up by my waist, carrying me determinedly to the water. "Michael Warren, put me down right now!" But he didn't stop until he was knee-deep in the ocean.

"Is your phone in your pocket?" he asked.

"Yes!" I lied, trying to escape.

"You're a dirty liar," he grinned, and he dropped me into the cold water. I came up sputtering.

"Damnit, Mike!" I yelled, grabbing him around the neck and pulling him under with me. When we came back up for air, he was laughing, and the light was finally back in his eyes. We looked at each other for a few seconds, then he gently reached up and brushed my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes at his touch and I felt his lips gently touch mine. I threw myself into the kiss with more passion than he had been expecting, but he responded enthusiastically, lifting me off my feet.

Eventually I made my way back to the shore. Wrapping myself in Mike's jacket, I sat and watched him in the water, watched the gentle swell of the waves playing around his hips. BD, our favorite stray dog, came running up the beach and settled himself next to me. I scratched behind his ears and watched Mike come out of the water, heading toward me. When he sat next to me, BD quickly left my side and went to his.

"It's not fair—he likes you more than he likes me!" I pouted, and Mike smiled. I drew my knees up to my chest and watched him. He pet BD with an absent expression; I knew his mind was somewhere else.

"Are you waiting for me to break down again?" Mike's sudden question surprised me.

"Why? Are you going to?" I thought the worst was behind us, but I'd been wrong before.

"No," he said matter-of-factly. He looked out over the waves. "I'll be OK," he said, echoing what I had said that morning. I leaned onto his shoulder and I was strangely relieved. I had been so scared that I lost him, but now I knew he was really coming back. "I have a meeting with my shrink today." Mike's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"Good," I said. "I know it's not your favorite thing, but it'll be good for you, especially after last night." Mike's face tightened and he slightly rolled his eyes, almost so I didn't see it. "What's up with this, Mike? You come back from the psychologist even more stressed than you were before you went. I'm no expert, but shouldn't it be the other way around?" Mike sighed and avoided my gaze.

"I guess it's just my deep hatred for shrinks," he said, smiling a little and making a joke out of it… which I didn't like.

"Look, Mike, if you can't tell me what it is, that's fine. Actually, it's not, but at least I get that. But you have to tell me if that's what it is—don't just avoid it or lie to me." I hated when he lied, even when he was trying to protect me. I knew going into the marriage that lies and secrecy were part of the deal, but Mike had assured me that if he needed to keep something from me, he'd have a good reason and he wouldn't lie about it.

"You're right—I can't tell you. You have no idea how much I want to, but I really can't. And I'm begging you: don't pry, don't try to guess or figure out what's going on. You're really better off not knowing." Mike looked torn, confused. Usually, when he had orders, he followed them and didn't ask questions. I'd never seen him doubt himself so much. I was willing to bet there was more to these "therapy sessions" than he was letting on. But I sighed and nodded, promising to let it lie. But I still didn't like it.

"Mike left to see his "psychologist" (if that's really what he was doing), and Johnny, Paige, Briggs, and Charlie were already gone on their mission. I had to the house to myself for once. I spent most of the morning finishing up lesson plans (with a little more than two weeks until school started), grocery shopping, and enjoying the novelty of the empty house. I picked up fresh produce from the farmer's market and was just finishing my lunch when I heard the front door open.

"Mike?" I called, wondering why his session had been so short. But it was Johnny who came into the living room, and he struck what I assume was supposed to be a "Mike" pose, with one arm stretched dramatically and his other hand on his chest.

"Yes, Samantha, it is me, Michael, the love of your life!" he called dramatically, then he leapt onto the couch and tackled me. I shrieked and tried to push him off, but he just made himself dead weight.

"Johnny, I can't breathe!" I gasped out in between giggles. He sat up and looked at me with a hurt expression.

"You calling me fat?"

"Obviously."

"Ouch! The housewife brings out the claws, man!" Johnny put my feet in his lap and Paige came in to join us in the living room.

"I'm only a housewife for about two more weeks!" I protested, sticking my tongue out at Johnny. "How'd the mission go?" I asked Paige.

"Ah, Briggs and Charlie had to get out in a hurry—one of Charlie's old CI friends showed up."

"Yeah, but they sure found a good way to hide their faces," Johnny said, grinning at Paige who grinned right back.

"Why, what'd they do?" I asked apprehensively.

"Let's just say no one could see their faces because they were facing each other… and they were close… _very_ close," Paige said. I still didn't get what the big deal was. I saw Briggs and Charlie come into the kitchen and she looked upset, I assumed because of her rogue CI.

"So they made out, big deal," I said, lowering my voice. "They were undercover; it's basically acting, right? It's not like it meant anything." But Johnny and Paige were still grinning at each other.

"Yeah, you go swap spit with an ex-lover then say it doesn't mean anything," Paige said, and she and Johnny began laughing conspiratorially.

I was only mildly surprised at this big revelation. The way Briggs and Charlie acted together you'd think they had been married for years. Even as I watched them in the kitchen together I could see it. In the way he gently rubbed her shoulders and the way she leaned back and rested against him, there was an intimacy that only came from something more than friendship.

"It is ex, isn't it? I mean, they only hooked up once, right?" Paige asked.

"Just once. Well, just once that we know about," Johnny said, winking suggestively.

"Well, it's about to happen again," Paige said with certainty. Johnny just laughed.

"Nu-uh, you know Briggs' mantra: 'No love in Graceland'. Except for you and Mikey, of course. You're the exception," Johnny said, rubbing my leg. But Paige wouldn't let it go.

"Still! It's been a while for both of them."

"But they're not going to risk years of friendship for a quick hook-up," I said. Johnny nodded and looked at Paige with a "case closed" expression. But we all looked into the kitchen and saw Briggs gently kiss Charlie on the forehead. Suddenly I wasn't quite so sure.

"This is gonna happen!" Paige said.

"It actually might," I conceded.

"You wanna bet?" Johnny asked.

"No!" I said, at the same time Paige said "Yes!"

"If in seven days the sex happens, you win. Johnny said. "No sex, I win."

"Okay," Paige said as I rolled my eyes. "Loser pays winner's bar tab for a week." I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Thanks for the free drinks," Johnny said as they shook hands.

"You two are disgusting," I said, standing up and shaking my head.

"What?" they said simultaneously, and I couldn't help smiling.

"This is Briggs' and Charlie's business, not ours!" I said. "We have no right to even be talking about it."

"Oh, poor Sammy," Johnny said. "I bet she was still a virgin when she met Mike." Paige cackled, and my jaw dropped in mock indignation. "I bet Mike's the only one."

"Good thing she didn't need any practice," I heard a voice from behind me, and Mike came into the living room, smiling. "She's better in bed than 10 of the girls you've been with," he said, putting his arms around my waist.

"I don't know if Johnny's even _been_ with 10 girls," I said, returning the slap. We were all in stitches, including Mike. I hoped being home was easier for him than being with his so-called psychologist. God, how I worried about him.


End file.
